50 Reasons: Reason 10 -- Curiosity
by doctorg
Summary: For the "50 Reasons" challenge, based on the "50 Reasons to Have Sex" list from How I Met Your Mother. Rogue and Wolverine get curious. Sorry for any confusion, this story is a one-shot, but I'll likely be pitching in to complete some of the other reasons. :-D


[Author's Note: Written for the 50 Reasons Rogan Challenge — based on the "50 Reasons to Have Sex" list from How I Met Your Mother. Quite a few reasons are still unclaimed, so if anyone wants to write one, feel free to PM me!]

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"It's goddamn laziness, is what it is," Logan grumbled, splitting the last bit of standing deadwood they had found with a razor-sharp claw and scraping out the dry insides onto their pathetic little pile.

"C'mon, sugar." Rogue unfurled her bedroll and flopped down on it with an exaggerated groan of relief. "You're just bitchin' for the fun of it. I _know_ I saw your ugly mug at the mission briefing, so don't pretend like you didn't hear it. Quiet in, quiet out, and no one knows we were here until their pretty little database starts corruptin' in —" She checked her watch. "Twenty hours. And Scott sure as hell ain't gonna try to land the Blackbird in the jungle in the dark just so's to get your grumpy ass home faster."

Figuring his answering growl was all the response she was going to get Rogue lay quiet for a moment, enjoying the soft sounds of the jungle around them. "You know," she finally said, starting to get fed up with his sulky silence. "If you're _really_ impatient I could fly us both..."

"Nuh uh," he interrupted firmly. "No offense, but flyin' in a plane's bad enough. If you plan on haulin' my metal ass up in the air with nothin' but you to hold me, it better be a goddamned emergency."

"Fine by me. Not like I was lookin' _forward_ to flyin' your metal ass across half of Central America. Super-strength or not, you're damned heavy." She shrugged philosophically and then folded her arms behind her head, gazing up at what they could see of the sky from the small clearing. It was truly amazing out here, far from all the pollution — the stars spread out above her in a glittering blanket against the indigo sky.

"Think it's gonna rain again? I'm feelin' too comfy to pitch the tent if we're not gonna need it."

"Hell if I know, but we can pitch it quick if it starts, I guess." He poked cantankerously at the small pile of dry wood they had made. "This's barely more'n kindling," he grumbled. "It'll hardly last an hour."

"Whatcha want a fire for anyway? It's not like we need the heat. I've gotta lantern if you want some light."

Logan spread his own bedroll about a foot away from hers and eased himself down on it. "I like a fire when I sleep outdoors."

She hummed thoughtfully. She could see that now, feel the echo of it somewhere in the dark corners of her own brain. That feral instinct — fire and shelter, a warm soft place to nestle into and a flickering flame to keep the other beasts at bay. "Want me to light it up for you?"

His shrug was as good as a yes, so she flipped her lighter open and gave it a little of Pyro for good measure. Soon the small fire was jumping and blazing merrily. They both lay in silence for awhile, watching the flames.

"Why're you so grumpy, anyway?" she finally asked. "Mission went about as well as we coulda asked for."

He was silent for so long she thought he wasn't going to answer, and then finally he spoke. "I hate the jungle," he groused.

"Really? Why?"

An indistinct rumble from him hardly helped clarify the matter.

She stared up at the sky, puzzling over it. She knew he loved the mountains, even though he hated the bitter cold. But why the jungle? What was it about the jungle that had him...

She snorted as the answer came to her. "_Really_, Logan? _Bugs_?"

He tried to muster up a snarl, but his voice when he spoke was mostly resigned. "Cheater. You promised you wouldn't go lookin' at my memories for no good reason."

She smiled up at the glittering sky. "I didn't even _have_ to look for that one, sugar, I swear. When you give me a puzzle like that, sometimes it just pops out." She chuckled. "All this time, how did I not know you had a thing about bugs?"

"Not _bugs_," he groused. "I don't give a damn about mosquitos or moths, or even spiders. It's the centipedes. All those legs, wriggling around." He shuddered.

"So, flyin' and centipedes." She was still smiling wide, trying not to laugh. The man had his pride, after all. Still, she couldn't help teasing him a little more. "Anythin' else you need to tell me about? Scared'a circus clowns, maybe?"

He reached out a long leg and jostled her foot, another low rumble escaping him.

"Was that your answer or your belly?"

She always did know how to tease him out of a bad mood. She could hear the suppressed amusement in his voice as he answered her. "Both, probably. Got somethin' in your pack to eat, or am I gonna have to hunt us up some snake?"

"Oh!" She sat up suddenly. "I almost forgot!"

He watched curiously as she dug through her pack with the enthusiasm of a kid opening presents on Christmas morning.

"Ta da!" she exclaimed in triumph, holding up the bottle of amber liquid.

"That's hardly food," he snorted. "Not to mention — you had a glass bottle in your pack this whole time? I musta taught you better'n that."

"Jack Daniels doesn't come in plastic, and you know I'll always be a Jack girl." She unscrewed the cap and took a swig straight out of the bottle before passing it over to him. "Plus..." She dug in her pack again and pulled out a giant bag of beef jerky.

"Gimme," he said, snatching it from her and cramming a piece of jerky in his mouth, washing it down with a swig of the whiskey.

"Geez, Logan, try to leave me some fingers, why dontcha?" she smirked. "I was gonna say that it seems like old times, but now it's a little backwards. Back then _I_ was the one gulpin' down _your_ jerky."

"Huh?" he said absently. He was digging in the jerky bag again, but suddenly he raised his head. Even in the fickle light of the small fire, she saw the moment he remembered, the barest shadow of a smile crossing his face.

"You think I pack a party like this every mission?" she teased. "Special occasion. Ten years ago today."

"What — really?" His face went blank with shock for just a moment before he seemed to gather himself.

Her smile widened. It was not often she could catch him by surprise. "I shit you not, Logan. Ten years."

She had figured he would make a joke or something, talk about how ten years of hanging around her felt like a century. To her surprise, though, he just stared back into the fire. _ "Ten years,"_ he said meditatively. "Jesus."

He shook his head finally, taking another swig from the bottle and then passing it back to her. He snuck a quick look at her out of the corner of his eye. "Was I supposed to keep track of this one?"

This time she had no problem laughing at him. "As _if! _ I can just see you, markin' it down in your little Snoopy calendar, countin' down the days. Maybe you'd draw a little heart around it...the anniversary of the day Rogue met Wolverine..." She said the last phrase in a sickly-sweet tone of voice, batting her eyelashes.

"All right, all right." He kicked her again. Like that would shut her up.

She took a swig from the bottle, shifting her eyes from him back to the fire. She shrugged, growing serious again. "Only reason I really remembered is 'cause I turned 27 last week, and I realized my 17th was out on that road, comin' up on Laughlin City. From there it wasn't hard to calculate."

She smiled wryly. "A lotta miles between 17 and 27, I guess." Her eyes found his again. "But you've been there for almost every one of 'em."

She saw him shift uncomfortably under her gaze. "Not as much as I'd have liked to. I was always off somewhere new, early on..."

"You were always there when it counted." Her voice was suddenly husky with emotion, and she laughed a little at herself. "Anyway, I thought it deserved celebratin'."

Logan's smile was warm and genuine, the one she sometimes felt that he saved just for her. "I agree. Now gimme back that bottle."

They talked about everything and nothing for awhile, passing the bottle back and forth between them. By the time there were only a few golden inches left in the bottom of the bottle she had somehow ended up with her head resting on his belly, his hand stroking gently through her hair.

They had both been silent for some time.

"Y'ever wonder..." she finally started.

"Never," he interrupted quickly.

She snorted. "Bullshit," she said. She turned her face to look at him, smiling half into his warm belly.

His eyes stayed closed, but the corner of his mouth quirked up. "Okay," he said. "Sometimes. Now and then."

She turned back up to look at the sky, the stars whirling a little. Or maybe that was her just her head.

"I guess I got the edge there," she said.

"Whaddaya mean?"

She tapped her head. Okay, maybe she missed the first time, only his quick reflexes keeping her from poking out her own eye. But the next tap definitely landed on her temple. "Got you in here, and all that. I know how you were with all those other women...I don't have to leave as much to the imagination, y'know?"

"Rogue..."

"Aw, c'mon, Logan! I was seventeen, of course I was gonna look!" she scoffed. "You think I coulda had all that in my head — an untouchable teenager, horny as hell, and not take a peek?"

She felt his growl reverberate against her scalp, and it only made her giggle more. "Anyway, though, that's how you were with other women. Still don't know what you'd be like with me. I mean, just think of it. I know you like it a little rough...and here I got inpenetrable skin, and super-strength. You could go as hard as you liked, not even worry for a minute about whether it was too much for me. You've never had that, have you? I mean..."

"_Rogue." _ His voice was low and gentle, but the warning was clear. "What are you playin' at?"

"Not playin'. Just talkin'." Her eyes fluttered closed, her right hand absent-mindedly tracing a path down her own belly. "I mean, you've thought about it, I've thought about it. Doesn't hurt to talk about it, does it? I kinda think maybe that it would start with one of your fights. That's how I first saw you, y'know? Just your back, muscles flexing. Jeans, and that giant belt buckle of yours. You smelled me, didn't you? Even over the cigar, and the whiskey, you smelled me come in..."

"I don't think you should do this, Rogue." His hand had gone still, but was stil tangled in her hair, the muscles of his stomach tightening underneath her.

"No harm in talkin', is there? Back then you smelled the girl, but I smell different now, don't I? This time you'd smell the woman. This time I'd know what I'm about. You'd smell that right away, wouldn't you? Know what I wanted from you, and what I could give to you in return."

Behind her closed eyelids the jungle and the firelight fell away. She could see it, smell it, feel it. The smoke in the air of the dirty bar, the taste of whiskey on her tongue. The way he looked when he fought, all ferocious and wild. In her mind he took his opponent down mercilessly and then suddenly his head turned, his golden-hazel eyes seeking her out unerringly.

"Back then I had to rely on your memories, but now I've got my own. Know what brick feels like, rough against my bare back. Know what it'd feel like the first time you pushed into me, that first impatient rush. And I'd be just as impatient, pushing back down into you, pullin' you closer. It'd burn a little, the stretch of you inside me, but it's a good burn, and you'd know I could take it. My leg around your waist, tryin' to get you as deep as you can go..."

His hand was clenched, pulling on her hair now, but he wasn't telling her to stop anymore. He wasn't saying anything, just breathing, uneven and rough, each exhale a soft growl.

"I think we'd fit real good. And the way you get — you know? When you really wanna let go, but you're always holdin' a little back, always makin' sure you don't cross that line. But you could cross that line with me, y'know? Knowing not just that I can take it, but that I want it that way. Because deep down I'm almost as wild. I'm the Rogue, and she'd want all of you, hard and rough and deep and fierce. I got the strength to let you pound inta me as hard as you want, you could bite on me all you like and never pierce my skin..."

"No!"

Her head hit the bedroll with a thunk, Logan's warmth suddenly gone. Her eyes flew open and she blinked up at the dazzling stars for a moment. She was suddenly stone cold sober, that warm fuzzy whiskey-drunk buzz disappearing instantly, replaced by cold fear blooming in her chest.

Logan had moved a few paces away, his back turned to her, whipcord tension in every line of his body.

_Oh, fuck_, she thought. Her breath felt frozen in her chest. Logan was her best friend. What had she been thinking, to get carried away in her fantasy like that? He was probably repulsed. She had probably fucked things up between them beyond repair.

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing down the panic and self-recrimination, and then opened them again. "Logan?" she asked tentatively. "I'm..."

"That's not what it would be like," he growled. He was still staring off into the jungle, his back broad and tense, muscles flexing underneath the thin sweat-damp t-shirt he wore.

He turned a little, and the look in his eyes made her heart stutter. "Not at first, at least," he said. "The first time with us would be soft, and slow."

She felt a dizzy rush of relief and arousal, the odd combination making her head spin.

"That's..." Her voice failed her, and she tried again. "That's...what you think about?"

His nod was curt, almost defiant. "I'd want to..." He stopped, and his eyes turned even impossibly darker in the flickering firelight. "No, not _want_ to. I'd _have_ to...I'd _have_ to lay you out, so I could see every inch of you. That pale skin of yours, and your hair, like silk."

He flashed his teeth, a quick feral smile that sent a jolt of arousal straight to her belly. "Those pink little nipples you got...yeah, I've seen 'em. Couldn't really look before, wouldn't let myself, but this time I would. I'd spread you out and touch every damn inch of you. Lick my way down your body and back up again, tastin' all your secret places. Rubbing my scent on you, all over you, so you'd smell me on you for days..."

"Oh god." She barely breathed the words, but he heard her all the same.

His voice was low and raspy, his own arousal sharpening his face, a slight flush gathering over his cheekbones. "I'd tease you until you couldn't even stand it anymore. All that touch you missed out on back before you could control it, I'd give back to you, until you were drunk with it. And when you were finally fallin' apart for me, that's when I'd slide into you, slow and gentle so you feel every inch. And you'd be so sweet around me, so ripe and soft and pretty and _mine_..."

"_Jesus fuck."_ She could hear her own voice, thick and lust-drunk, and he heard it too. He seemed to pull out of his mind a little, one slow blink as his eyes focused again. He shook his head, looking somewhat abashed, laughing a little at himself. He suddenly looked down, running a hand through his hair, and when he looked back up he looked almost...shy.

"I think..." he started, and then cleared his throat to get some of the growl out of his voice. "I think there'd be laughter, too," he finally said. "It wouldn't be like...like we became lovers instead of friends. It'd be both. We'd still have what we have, and then we'd have that too. At least...I think we could do that. I dunno. I've never had that with anyone, but I think if anyone could have it, maybe we could."

"Logan..."

She reached out a hand to him.

_["Rogue. Wolverine. Do you read me? Over?"]_

They both jumped as the communicator on Wolverine's belt crackled to life.

They stared dumbly at the communicator for a long moment before Logan finally gathered himself and yanked it free of his belt clip, pressing the send button.

"We read you. Over," he growled into the small device, his eyes still intense and dark on Rogue, pinning her in place.

_["Rogue said on the comm earlier that you were getting antsy. We have a lock on your position, we'll be above in five minutes. Nightcrawler is on hand for retrieval to the Blackbird. You copy?"]_

"Copy that, Storm. Five minutes. We'll be ready. Over."

He slid the communicator back into his belt clip, his eyes still on her. She felt something snap inside her, and suddenly she was lunging forward. She clung to him, pressing her lips to his, sobbing a shuddering breath into his mouth as he took control, devouring her mouth with a growl of frustration.

He nipped and licked at her, stealing her breath, until finally he gentled the kiss. He tenderly leaned his forehead against hers, both of them panting.

Rogue felt a wild, strange bubble of giddiness welling up inside her. She laughed softly against his warm skin.

"Y'ever think we'll do it? Give in to the curiosity, I mean?" she asked him, her eyes bright with mischief.

His mouth quirked up in that little half-smile of his. "Probably. But not tonight, darlin'."

She smiled, snuggling contentedly into his neck for a moment between stepping back. "Not tonight, sugar," she murmured. She knelt down, starting to repack her bedroll in brisk, efficient movements. Afterwards she banked the fire, still smiling a little to herself. The flame was out now but the embers were there, still burning, just waiting for their moment to blaze back into life.

So quiet that he wouldn't have heard it if he had been anyone else, she added, "But soon."


End file.
